"And less to start with. A fire in his apartment block could wipe him out completely."

"Well, if the worst happened, he needn't go hungry. There's always the grain dole that Clodius established."

I shook my head. "People like him want the state to give them order, more than they want a grain dole. He craves stability no less than our banker friend."

"Do you think that's why he's here? Looking for law and order?"

"Why not?"

"Let's find out." Eco took my arm and together we slid through the crowd, to the consternation of Eco's bodyguards, who were hard pressed to follow.

"Citizen," said Eco, "don't I know you?"

The man looked at Eco appraisingly. "I don't think so."

"Yes, I'm almost certain we frequent the same tavern. You know, that little place-"

"The Three Dolphins?"

"That's it! Yes, I'm sure we've spoken before."

"Maybe." The man's glum expression lightened a bit.

"Oh, you remember, we once had quite a laugh – you know, at that funny fellow who works there…"

"Gaius, you mean? Yes, he's an odd one." The man chuckled.

"And of course…" Eco gestured with his hands to suggest an ample bosom.

The man flashed a crooked smile and nodded. "Ah, the old man's daughter. The one he claims is still a virgin. Ha!"

Eco discreetly tapped his foot against mine, as if to say: The fish is hooked. Gaining the confidence of a total stranger is one of the tricks that Eco learned from me, and he likes to show off to his teacher. I saw him glance quickly at the man's hands, appraising the chapped fingertips and the red stain under the fingernails. "Do you still work as a cloth dyer?"

"What else? Washing and dyeing, washing and dyeing. Over in the Street of the Fullers. Every day for more than twenty years now."

"Is that right?" Eco lowered his voice to a confidential tone. "Say, how much did they give you?"

"What?"

"This morning. You know what I mean. How much did Milo's men give you?"

The fuller looked at Eco and then glanced warily at me.

"It's all right," said Eco. "The fellow's with me. He's a harmless mute."

I discreetly kicked Eco's ankle. This was a private joke – it was Eco who had once been a mute, not me. Now he had effectively prevented me from saying a word.

"So how much did they give you?" said Eco again.

"Same as everyone else, I imagine," said the fuller.

"Yes, but how much?"

"Well, I never like to say exactly. But enough." The man tapped at a purse tucked away in his toga and produced a muffled clink. "And a promise for quite a bit more if I’ll vote for him when the time comes. And you?"

"A hundred sesterces," said Eco.

"What! A hundred! They gave me only half that much!'" "Ah, but the hundred was for both of us." Eco hooked his thumb at me.

The man nodded, mollified by Eco's explanation. Then he frowned. "But if your friend is a mute and can't even shout his support, it hardly seems fair to pay him as much as -"

"Ah, but as you can see, the two of us each have two slaves, men with strong lungs, and you appear to have only one. Even with my friend being mute, that gives us five voices to your two."

"Yes, well, I suppose…"

"So, citizen, what do you make of all this?" With an expansive gesture Eco indicated the whole Forum, and by extension the crisis plaguing Rome.

The fuller shrugged. "Same as usual, only worse. Except that now they've gone from character assassination to assassination outright. We'd be lucky if they'd all kill each other off, starting from the top down. Wipe themselves out! But you know how it is when the big fellows start railing – they fall on top of us little fellows and crush us."

Eco nodded sagely. "Then you're not a particularly enthusiastic supporter of Milo?"

"Fah!" The man curled his hp in disdain. "Oh, he's certainly better than some others, or else I wouldn't be here. You couldn't pay me enough to attend a contio held by the Clodians. That fellow Clodius was worse than a beast in rut. Screwing his own sister! And they say when he was a boy he sold himself to rich old men. You know the song – 'To get ahead, he gave them head, then took his sister to his bed. 'And-"

"But what about the grain dole?"

The man was suddenly incensed. "Just another scheme to make himself more powerful! Yes, Clodius set up the grain dole – and then who was put in charge of keeping the lists of eligible citizens? Sextus Cloelius! That's right, Clodius's number one henchman, the one who torched the Senate House. As corrupt as they come! Don't talk to me about the grain dole. It's all a racket!"

"A racket?" said Eco.

"Of course. You must know how it works." "Enlighten me."

"All right: Sextus Cloelius talks a man into freeing half his household slaves. The slaves become freedmen, but where are they going to go? They still work for their old master, they still live in his house. But as freedmen they can go onto the grain dole, so their master doesn't have to feed them anymore – the state does! For his cut, Sextus Cloelius enlists these new freedmen into the Clodian gang, to stalk the streets at night and show up at contios to terrorize the opposition. And they get to vote, as well. The grain dole! Clodius passed off the whole nasty business as a big favour he'd done for the common man in Rome, people like me, providing us with a way to feed ourselves in bad times. But it was just a way to supply riimself with new voters and gang members – and to feed them at state expense! I tell you, I was born a citizen, and it makes me furious to see Clodius's gang of ex-slaves getting the same privileges as me. What a conniver that Clodius was, right up to the last – they say he was working out more new schemes to give even more power to freedmen. If he'd had his way he'd have torn down the state and put his gangs in charge of everything. Then we'd have had King Clodius, chopping off heads right and left, and a bunch of ex-slaves bullying the rest of us. We're all better off with him dead, that's for sure. Milo did a good thing. I don't mind turning up to shout a few words of encouragement for him."

"And if it puts a little jingle in your purse…" said Eco. "Why not?"

"Yes, why not? Well, I'll talk to you later, citizen. Perhaps we'll meet again at the Three Ducks."

"The Three Dolphins?" said the fuller.

"Exactly!" Eco smiled and withdrew, taking my arm. "Well, Papa, was I right about the fellow?"

"On the contrary, Eco, I was right. Just as I speculated, our friend the fuller came here today to support law and order."

"Indeed not! Papa, the man was bribed to be here, probably like three-quarters or more of the rest of this crowd. I knew I'd seen some of Milo's lieutenants passing out money when I walked through the Forum earlier this morning, on my way to your house. I suppose we should be insulted that we weren't offered anything."

"The bribe dispensers all know us by now, Eco."

"I suppose that's it. This little gathering is costing Milo a tidy sum."

"Yes, but I was still right."

"About what?"

"About why our friend the fuller is here. He's looking for the rule of law and order."

"And a bribe," said Eco. "And a bribe," I conceded.

Caelius and Milo soon arrived, surrounded by a large retinue. As they made their way through the crowd, people craned their necks to get a look at Milo, and when they saw him many began to cheer. Their excitement seemed genuine, and why not? For better or worse, Milo was the man of the hour, and this was his first appearance in public since the incident on the Appian Way. All eyes were on him. All ears were eager to hear him speak.

With or without bribery, Milo had many supporters. He had been campaigning for the consulship for a long time, and in an effort to expand his support beyond the Best People he had spent a fortune on extravagant games and shows. Rome loves a politician who knows how to stage a spectacle. Some magistrates are required to put on shows at various annual festivals, at their own expense, as part of their official duties for the year. Other men put on shows as private citizens, in the guise of funeral games. Whatever the pretext, every politician ascending the rungs of the magistracies is obligated to outdo his rivals in producing the most memorable races and comedies and gladiatorial combats. The practice is so accepted that no one ever seems to notice that providing expensive public entertainments is just as much a kind of electoral bribery as putting coins directly into the purses of voters. Nowadays, people seem to have lost the will to object even to that.